I want you to be my wife. Go to her, I say, and take her in your arms, you poor benighted Ironsides! I can't make you see. Her sister had told him that it was true. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips.
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